Doctor Who Geekery Report: The Visitation (1982)

The Visitation (15-23 Feb 1982, w: Eric Saward, d: Peter Moffat)

I dug out the DVD of The Visitation this morning. Although it's quite well-regarded I never quite warmed to this story, and re-viewing it did little to further endear me to it.

There are a lot of decent ingredients to this story: a few good lines, an impressive looking monster, one particularly good supporting character (Richard Mace), some decent location shooting, the destruction of the Doctor's signature prop, and an interesting premise (aliens at the heart of the Plague and Great Fire of 1666), but it's all undercut by a lack of decent plotting, scripting, directing, etc.

John Nathan Turner saddled the period's writers with having a TARDIS crew of four to attend to (the Doctor, Adric, Nyssa & Tegan). Compare with the far more effective "Kinda", which found a contrivance to keep Nyssa asleep in the TARDIS for all four episodes, and Tegan trapped inside her own mind. The crew harkens back to the early days of the program when three companions were necessary to complement Hartnell's elderly, occasionally infirm persona, and each companion had their particular function: Ian was the man of action, Barbara the nurturer, and Susan the glass-ankled innocent. But here, the Doctor is more robust and the three companions lack distinction. Although Nyssa and Adric had scientific ability, it was rarely put to use. Tegan's character served very little purpose but to whine. (Ironically, in this story, Adric is the glass-ankled one!) All three do very little except get caught, escape, look for the Doctor, etc.

A comparatively gripping opening 'teaser' sequence in which a family of generic Restoration gentry get wiped out by unseen aliens starts the first episode off with momentum, which is promptly halted by a tedious story-padding scene of the Doctor and Co. recapping the previous story, setting Tegan up for her return and then her subsequent bitching out the Doctor when the TARDIS lands some-when else. They then spend the next three and a half episodes wandering around rather aimlessly, pausing every 23 minutes or so for a weak and utterly pointless cliffhanger ("Doctor, where are you?" "Oh, not again..." "No! Don't open that!")

Save for Mace, who's all but operating in a vacuum, the supporting characters have no distinction (they're not helped by the fact that Saward has them under mind control for most of the story). One yearns for a Holmsian double-act, or, well, anything memorable.

Quite a lot of obvious effort and expense went into the Terleptil costume, but then little effort went into making the Terleptil a memorable character. Apart from an offhand reference to the Terleptils' love of beauty (certainly not supported by the ship's bland design), the Terleptils are a pretty generic race. Saward tries to get us to generate some sympathy for the Terleptil; he's an escaped prisoner, an outcast among his own people, disfigured, etc. The ingredients are there, but are undercut by indifferent writing, directing, and production design. He doesn't even get a name. Or, as it turns out, clothes.

If anything, an introductory scene featuring the team of Terleptils escaping and crashing, something to establish their characters, their backgrounds, their intentions, etc, might have gone a long way toward engendering the sympathy Saward intended. Instead we get five minutes of a domestic scene featuring characters who are promptly killed off. (If he had to go with the family, instead of being killed couldn't they have been captured, forced to do terrible things under mind control, and then liberated at the end, perhaps with the father sacrificing his life or something? That would have at least been interesting. That's arguably what Robert Holmes would have done.)

I can hypothesize that in his early drafts, Saward had set the action in the middle of London. But of course to re-create plague-ridden London in 1666 would be cost-prohibitive, so the producers had him set the action to an unnamed village outside the city (with a population, apparently, of five), only moving into London late in Episode Four so the climax, i.e. the Great Fire, could occur.

This was Eric Saward's debut on Doctor Who. One wonders what JNT saw to inspire him to hire him as script editor, other than that he wrote a story on time that fit in the budget.

Well, at least it's better than Time-Flight, but I'm not in a hurry to watch it again. At least Time-Flight is so awful that it's entertaining. This is just plain boring.

My Grade: C-

The Definitive Piercing Analysis from a Random Facebook App

What does Jesus think of you?
Jesus thinks you're a Sanctimonious Prick
He's tired of your shit. Nobody thinks you're different, or interesting, or cool. Certainly not the Saviour of all Men. Jesus wants you to quit being such a tool.

John's comment: the Ayn Rand image was just the crown on the sin qua non of Facebook quizzes. Love it!

iPod album shuffle of the Day: "Asia" (1982)

My iPod is set to album shuffle (and has been for several months; currently on song 6171 out of 7965), and today's album carrying me thru my drizzly morning commute was Asia's 1982 self-titled debut.

During my tweens this was one of my favorite albums, back before I discovered the progressive heavyweight bands that came to dominate my playlist in undergrad and after. Asia was a supergroup consisting of members of three leading prog bands that at the time had gone on hiatus: guitarist Steve Howe and keyboardist Geoff Downes had left Yes (who had broken up in '79 and were about to reform without them), drummer Carl Palmer had left Emerson and Lake (who then promptly re-formed with Cozy Powell... a theme?), and John Wetton was the bassist and vocalist of King Crimson before they evaporated in '74 (and had since, all together now, re-formed without him). Hell, even Roger Dean (who had a virtual monopoly on prog rock album artwork) designed the cover.

As the band's pedigree suggests, Asia is awash in the intricate stylings of the genre, albeit liberally peppered with hooks and pop references (i.e. the Spectoresque "Be My Baby" drumbeat in "Heat of the Moment"), but lyrically... well, nobody put it better than master critic Robert Christgau: "After listening to two lyrics about why they like their girlfriends, three about "surviving," and four about why they don't like their girlfriends, I'm ready for brain salad surgery."

I can't deny that Asia is full of catchy, hooky, guilty pleasures, but acknowledging so doesn't overshadow the sense that they're consciously dumbing down their songs to reach a mass audience. When you consider the artistic heights they had reached in their earlier bands, there's an inescapably condescending air pervading this album, which as an adult prevents me from embracing it the way I did as when I was twelve. It's like if the Beatles tried to write "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" after they'd done Revolver & Sgt Pepper. (also guilty: ELP's "Black Moon," Howe and Steve Hackett's "GTR", and any Yes song with Trevor Rabin in it)

And a side note - putting a year in a song lyric is almost always a bad idea. "And now you find yourself in '82 / The disco hotspots hold no charms for you" confines the album to a specific era, freezing it in time (and makes me feel really really old to think that this album came out twenty-seven years ago. I've dated people younger than this album).

(In the meantime, my shuffle has now landed on Yes's Tales From Topographic Oceans, which is either the peak or nadir of progressive rock. For me it's a bit of both, sometimes over the course of a single song. Still, the contrast between this and Asia is startling, and further confirmation of my above opinions.)

"Hope I Die Before I Get Old"

Not really.

Here's a list of rock stars (or personalities associated with pop/rock music) over the age of 70.
Taken from http://www.ihopeidiebeforeigetold.com/oldest-living-rock-stars.php

1. Les Paul, guitar pioneer, 93 (born 9 June 1915)
2. Ravi Shankar, Indian sitar legend, 89 (born 7 April 1920)
3. Bert Weedon, early UK rock guitarist, 88 (born 10 May 1920)
4. Ed Cassidy, drummer for Spirit, 85 (born 4 May 1923)
5. Jim Marshall, the "Father of Loud", 85 (born 29 July 1923)
6. Tuli Kupferberg, beat poet and member of the Fugs, 85 (born 28 Sep 1923)
7. Earl Scruggs, 85 (born 6 Jan 1924)
8. BB King, 83 (born 16 Sept 1925)
9. George Martin, Beatles producer, 83 (born 3 Jan 1926)
10. Chuck Berry, 82 (born 18 Oct 1926)
11. Mose Allison, 81 (born 11 Nov 1927)
12. Fats Domino, 81 (born 26 Feb 1928)
13. Burt Bacharach, 80 (born 12 May 1928)
14. Hubert Sumlin, Howlin' Wolf's guitarist, 77 (born 16 Nov 1931)
15. Scotty Moore, Elvis Presley's guitarist, 77 (born 27 Dec 1931)
16. Petula Clark, 76 (born 15 Nov 1932)
17. Little Richard, 76 (born 5 Dec 1932)
18. Yoko Ono, 76 (born 18 Feb 1933)
19. Quincy Jones, 76 (born 14 March 1933)
20. Willie Nelson, 75 (born 30 April 1933)
21. Marshall Lytle, one of Bill Haley's Comets, 75 (born 1 Sept 1933)
22. John Mayall, UK blues rock pioneer, 75 (born 29 Nov 1933)
23. Loretta Lynn, 74 (born 14 April 1934)
24. Leonard Cohen, 74 (born 21 Sept 1934)
25. Carol Kaye, LA session bassist, 74 (born 24 March 1935)
26. Bobby Vinton, 73 (born 16 April 1935)
27. Jerry Lee Lewis, 73 (born 29 Sept 1935)
28. Johnny Mathis, 73 (born 30 Sept 1935)
29. Julie Andrews, 73 (born 1 Oct 1935)
30. Glen Campbell, 72 (born 22 April 1936)
31. Engelbert Humperdinck, 72 (born 2 May 1936)
32. Kris Kristofferson, 72 (born 22 June 1936)
33. Buddy Guy, 72 (born 30 July 1936)
34. Bill Wyman, 72 (born 24 Oct 1936)
35. Charlie Daniels, 72 (born 28 Oct 1936)
36. Mary Travers, of Peter, Paul & Mary, 72 (born 9 Nov 1936)
37. Shirley Bassey, 72 (born 8 Jan 1937)
38. Don Everly, 72 (born 1 Feb 1937)
39. Roberta Flack, 72 (born 10 Feb 1937)
40. Merle Haggard, 72 (born 6 April 1937)
41. Dick Dale, 71 (born 4 May 1937)
42. Vic Flick, 71 (born 14 May 1937)
43. Trini Lopez, 71 (born 15 May 1937)
44. Eddie Floyd, R&B singer, 71 (born 25 June 1937)
45. Tom Paxton, 71 (born 31 Oct 1937)
46. Frank Ifield, 71 (born 30 Nov 1937)
47. Paul Stookey, of Peter, Paul & Mary, 71 (born 30 Dec 1937)
48. Paul Revere, 71 (born 7 Jan 1938)
49. Allen Toussaint, 71 (born 14 Jan 1938)
50. Etta James, 71 (born 25 Jan 1938)
51. Duane Eddy, 70 (born 26 April 1938)
52. Herbie Flowers, 70 (born 19 May 1938)
53. Peter Yarrow, of Peter Paul & Mary, 70 (born 31 May 1938)
54. Ben E King, 70 (born 28 Sept 1938)
55. PJ Proby, 70 (born 6 Nov 1938)
56. Gordon Lightfoot, 70 (born 17 Nov 1938)
57. JJ Cale, 70 (born 5 Dec 1938)
58. Scott McKenzie, 70 (born 10 Jan 1939)
59. Phil Everly, 70 (born 19 Jan 1939)
60. Gerry Goffin, 70 (born 11 Feb 1939)
61. Ray Manzarek, of the Doors, 70 (born 12 Feb 1939)
62. Neil Sedaka, 70 (born 13 March 1939)

Still More Piercing Analysis From Random Facebook Quizzes

Which Beatles Song Are You?
You are I Am The Walrus.











You are the true iconoclast. You possess the perfect union of intuition and knowledge. You are independent and very involved in your thoughts. Avoid the tendency to have envy and contempt of others.

Which element are you?

You are Wood, an interesting element indeed. Made of tough stuff, you are. You have an outer shell that can protect you from most things and, unlike Metal, your shell is one built on logic and experience instead of one hastily put up to protect you from being hurt (though it functions in that way as well). Wood has the least personality of the elemental personae and is the most effected by the other elements (needs air to breathe, water to drink, earth to grow from, fire destroys it). Though to balance all of that out, you can heal far more easily than the rest (which is good, because if you do fall, bouncing back will be horrendously difficult). You are stable, stubborn almost, but smarts and common sense are your roots that keep you in place. Your place in the world: You are the wizened old soul whose mere existence proves that anything's possible..

John comments: How ironic, most drama critics say the same thing about my performances.

What Old Movie Star Are You?

Bette Davis
Short and to the point. Temperamental. Smoke when you get nervous or distracted. Good at whatever you do. Doesn't waste time. You either have strong friends or strong enemies. You have proven that nothing can stop you and you can do anything. Don't care what people say about you. You are ultimately capable of murder.

John comments: I changed my answers several times, and each time I wound up Bette. I think the fix is in.

Piercing Analysis from Random Facebook Apps, Vol. 6

Which President Are You?

Calvin Coolidge

You are shy and quiet. You are very funny, but not at all the clown. If it would mean you not being in it, you would like to watch a conversation go smoothly. Though sometimes oblivious to what is happening, people look up to you. You are compatible with Ronald Reagan.

(John says.... Reagan? Seriously?)

Piercing Analysis from Random Facebook Apps, Vol.... uh, 5?

What Shakespearean Character Are You?
(A different quiz from last year)

Jacques

You have a tremendous sense of humor, but sometimes you go a little too far with it. You veer into cynicism too frequently. A popular person, you know how to please crowds, but they don't ever seem to please you.

Which Punk Rock Star Are You?

Joe Strummer (The Clash)

You seem really involved in politics or social problems and you want to do a lot about. Charity concerts or other actions - that's your way to fix the world. You show, that punk rock exist beyond sex, drugs and alcohol. But you still know how to rock. Good for you.

LOLCat du Jour

Been Busy

So, yeah, I've been away a while. All is well.

Just wrapped "The Cherry Orchard" at WSC; billed as the last performance at Clark St, it more than likely won't be. The bank that was financing the redevelopment of the area went bust, and the Arlington Arts Council's budget was slashed. The vote is coming soon on the proposed renovation of the empty former Newseum space in Rosslyn which would potentially be WSC's new home. WSC's Board is resolute and our fingers are crossed, but I fear at least one more sweltering summer and frosty winter in the warehouse.

Since April '07 I've done seven productions, of which six were at Clark Street, and I feel like the directions from my house to there is now encoded in my midbrain. I accepted a role in American Century's "Native Son," and I hope I don't forget not to drive out to Crystal City.

Early in the Cherry Orchard rehearsal process, the cast and crew went up to NYC to see the "The Seagull" on Broadway. I doubt I'll see a better production of a Chekhov play in my lifetime. It was also my first time back in the Big Apple since I moved out in May '04, and I forgot what an energizing experience it is. I'm beginning to hear the siren call, and it's tempting. I'm going back March 2-8 with Al, to see more shows. I'm dragging him to Uncle Vanya (directed by Austin Pendleton, my old acting teacher), and he's dragging me to see Billy Elliott. He'll be working the Chelsea Art Fair while I go off to see the Bridge Project's production of The Cherry Orchard at BAM Harvey (NYC apparently has gone Chekhov crazy).

Oh yeah, Al. Did I mention Al? (sigh)

Went to Leagues. Used my standard monologue, from Pinter's "Silence." I do it well. Arena Stage called, inviting me to participate in their 10-minute student playwriting thing; a potential foot in the door, but my NYC trip made that impossible, alas. Got an upcoming audition for Rorschach's summer season next week. Fingers crossed.

Field Report: A Delicate Balance, Arena Stage

(Still alive and blogging.)

Saw Edward Albee's "A Delicate Balance" at Arena last night on a comp ticket. Not sorry I went. But like most productions from DC's Big Two (Arena and Shakespeare Theatre Co), they tend to mute down the emotional intensity as not to upset the (largely geriatric) audience, while amping up the production values so donors and subscribers would know how their money was spent. I commend the cast for not being thrown by the din of dropped change (you'd think everybody paid with pennies), snoring, coughing fits and listening device feedback.

As matriarch Agnes, Kathleen Chalfant, the big name in the cast, was even-keeled to a fault. The pointed barbs at milquetoasty husband Tobias, alcoholic sister Claire and quadruple divorcee daughter Julia were largely devoid of sting, almost as if she was marking it through; clearly and distinctly spoken, but flatlined. Of course, maybe it was a bad night. Still, being a Broadway star and all, pencil in her Helen Hayes nom next year. (I'm hardly objective but Audrey Adams who played my Agnes in the community production I directed 10 years ago was more effective.) Terry Beaver, though, does deliver as Tobias, particularly his Act 3 explosion, and the rest of the cast do just fine.

Like recognizing like, the audience had no trouble identifying with Toby and Agnes, giving harumphs of recognition at the minutae of the upper-class life that Albee was adopted into, but came away a bit befuddled by it all. What did it mean? "What is this 'terror' of which they speak," they mutter while their mutual funds and 401-K's evaporate. I found it utterly ironic that the most timely line in the play, when Julia demands that Agnes explain her displacement at the hands of Harry and Edna, was cut: "Don't they have a house anymore? Did the market go bust without my knowing it?" Ah, we can't upset the delicate sensibilities of our patrons, for whom art is not a mirror of the soul but something tasteful to hang over the setee. Another cognac? Why yes please.